You are invited, so answer already! Pretty please?

Perhaps the problem is that it’s French. You know, passe — so mid-20th century.

That’s it: Perhaps folks don’t really know the meaning of RSVP. They think it’s French for “We’ll get around to it when we feel like it and what are you gonna do about it?”

Our disregard for the plans and preparations of others never becomes more apparent than when we are the ones doing the inviting. That’s when we’re shocked, shocked, that people we care enough to include in our special occasions aren’t leaping at the chance to let us know, one way or the other, if they will participate.

After all, we have menus to select — and often prepare — as well as seating and other details of comfort. If they don’t respond, we don’t know how much to buy, how much to make, how many chairs we’ll need, how to accommodate everyone comfortably.

The nonrespondents, we assume, just don’t care. How dare they?

Then we remember, uh, our own previous casual regard for invites. Guilty!

We get it in the mail, relieved it’s not junk or a bill, scan and put it aside. These things are sent out so early, after all. We’ll get back to it.

And then? Days, even weeks, later we say to ourselves, Isn’t something coming up? Did we forget to mark it on our calendar?

I’ve done it at the last minute, just before the deadline, and even past the last minute. Oops, I hope they’ll understand. We’re so busy!

Even worse than responding late, or not at all, is saying you’ll attend and not showing up. Know what happens? The host is stuck with food prepared but not consumed. And it ain’t free, Bub.

Some dear ones ignore the request for a response and show up anyway. What’s the host to do, confront them at the door and conduct an interrogation while someone else finds a chair, a fork and a clean plate for the unexpected guest?

Too refined. We need to be more direct, pushy. Perhaps invoke some German: Achtung! You shall reply!

Now that is an attention-getter. Sounds almost like a threat. Do it now! Or else.

Don’t make us call you, please

So the choice is to sit and stew — a wimpy option — or get on the phone and start calling. And boy is that fun: Hello, Cousin Bertha? We’re wondering, after sending you a save-the-date card seven months in advance, followed by a printed invitation a month ago, if you now will please, please give us an answer since I’m asking you directly.

Makes me consider that Bible story of the man who gave a lavish banquet, invited all the area swells, none of whom deigned to show. So, he went out into the streets and grabbed beggars and pickpockets and various other biblical ne’er-do-wells and brought them in for a free meal.

At least the food was eaten. And they likely didn’t stick around for the Macarena. Not a bad deal altogether.